The Admiral's Pooch
by Psychodahlia
Summary: Whatever happened to that dog?


This is dedicated to Brodie-wan, who gave me the idea. Thanks and happy reading!

Admiral Archer protectively clutched Aramis to his chest. "Absolutely not!" He said, his voice loosing the frail old man sound it usually had and taking the tone and timber of a ticked off Drill Sergeant. It was so loud it echoed off the halls of his spacious office. "You stay away from my dog, Cadet!"

Montgomery 'Scotty' Scott didn't give up. This was science and if he did the math right (and he always did the math right) it would be history. "Sir, this is a big opportunity here." He intentionally thickened his accent a bit. The Scottish brogue tended to calm Yankees down for some reason. He wasn't sure why that was but he wasn't going to bite the hand that fed him. "Little Aramis here could be big." He reached over and tickled the dog's chin. "He'd like that, wouldn't ya Boy? Yeah? Yeah….ow!"

Aramis evidently did not like being called 'Little'. He let go of Scotty's finger on Archer's command but still growled. "The answer's no. It will remain no. Now go away." Archer sniffed and leaned away, his eyes burning holes into Scotty's brain.

Scotty thought it was a big shame. The history books always portrayed Captain Archer as such a cool guy. Too bad he got old.

Did he say that out loud? Oops.

Admiral Archer forced himself up from the chair and stood at his full height. "Old? Old? Did you just call me old?"

Old and apparently hard of hearing. Now that Scotty did not say aloud. "Poor choice of words, Sir…"

"Damn right it was a poor choice of words."

"What I mean is, unadventurous."

Aramis' growling suddenly became louder and more pronounced. His owner narrowed his eyes and his lips puckered up making his nostrils flare out in silent rage.

Scotty saw his chance. "Think about it, Admiral. The respected leader who defined his generation allows his beloved pet to do the same. That dog goes down in the history books, a worthy attachment to his owner's name." Admiral Archer had never been a man to pay much attention to flattery, but all men have vanity and all men have a breaking point.

He broke like a mirror when Scotty told him he'd ask the student newspaper to send a reporter to the event. Starfleet Academy's _Final Frontier_ was a respected scientific publication that always had good things to say about the fleet's old heroes. Imagine the fuss they'd make over one of those heroes allowing his dog to participate in an experiment that would provide Starfleet with invaluable data and new technology.

Before he left, Scotty had to swear on a Bible that Aramis would come to no harm.

The appointed day of the experiment arrived and all were assembled for the demonstration that would send Aramis into history and Scotty to the top of his graduating class. Attired in his dress uniform, the engineer pulled a growling pooch away from his reluctant owner, much to the amusement of the gathered journalists and faculty members.

"Now, now, Pup. I will not let yeh get hurt." He smiled and carried the beagle to the transporter. "Muck this up for me and I'll turn you into a sandwich and eat you." He muttered under his breath so that only Aramis could hear.

Aramis responded by wetting his uniform. The warm trickle ran down the front of his nice, new, dry cleaned, dress uniform.

The journalist from _Final Frontier_ was almost doubled over with laughter. Jerk. Scotty cooled himself down by remembering that Jerk would be stuck covering stories about new uniform policies and changes in command upon graduation. Laugh at that.

He stepped back to stand with the rest of the crowd and pushed a button. Aramis yapped when the swirling blue and white lights engulfed him and he faded from view.

"And now he's going to reappear over there!" Scotty pointed and held his breath. He had a big grin on his face and was almost bouncing with anticipation.

"And?" Kirk prompted. He, Sulu and Chekov were all leaning forward, the three of them hanging on to Scotty's every word. "What happened next?"

Scotty gave him a look. "The damned dog never reappeared and I got sent to live on the icebox with Keenser where you found me." He took a swig of whiskey.

Sulu bit his tongue so he wouldn't laugh. "What happened to the journalist?"

"You know Bryan Durrell? The guy in charge of Starfleet's broadcasts covering intergalactic diplomacy? That's him."

Kirk didn't bother biting his tongue. "I'm sorry, but that's hilarious."

"No, not really." Scotty finished his drink and looked horribly depressed for a second. "Ah well. It's all in the past. Can't change it. Anyways, time for me to get back to work. I'll see you lads later." He nodded at them and left the dining facility.

Still grinning, Kirk sipped his drink. "That's an awesome story."

"Agreed." Sulu nodded. "Chekov, what's up? You're awfully quiet."

Chekov opened his mouth to speak a few times, then shook his head. Kirk and Sulu exchanged looks, then Kirk ruffled his hair. "C'mon, Kid. Tell us."

"Vhen I vas a freshman," Chekov started. "My roommate and I vere studying for exams vhen a dog appeared in the middle of our room."

"You're kidding." Kirk sounded incredulous. Sulu gaped.

"Nyet. But my roommate and I…ve vere very poor. It vas the end of the semester and ve had run out of money from home."

Kirk arched an eyebrow, a quirk he had picked up unknowingly from Spock. "What does this have to do with the dog?"

"Vell, ve took it to Chinatown and sold it to a Korean Bar-B-Q."

Kirk blinked. "I don't get it."

"Here." Sulu took out his communicator and accessed the Internet. A hastily typed question into the search function revealed that yes, in certain parts of Asia, dogs were considered delicious and nutritious.

Kirk's expression went from amused to horrified and back to amused. "Depending on how you look at it, this keeps getting better and better, or worse and worse. Seriously though, a bar-b-q?"

"It didn't have a collar!" Chekov protested a little too loudly. "And I didn't vant to ask Mat and Papa for more money!" He looked helplessly at the older officers. "It's not funny."

"Oh, it's funny." Sulu assured him. "Right Captain?"

"Yeah." Kirk swallowed the last of his drink. "Yeah. But I'm going to suggest we never speak of it again." He looked at them meaningfully. They knew the logic behind his suggestion. Scotty would probably never forgive the person who cost him his chance at glory. They had enough drama on the ship. Chekov readily agreed and Sulu nodded.

When Chekov left, Kirk turned to the pilot. "If I ever mention getting so much as a goldfish, shoot me."

Finite.

Author's notes: I googled it and apparently there are placed in Asia that really do eat dogs. All those years of thinking it was an urban legend.


End file.
